Sophie Never Gets Hurt
by LimeFlamingo
Summary: MINOR UPDATES 3/22 "Nate held his Sophie in his arms as the team reached the threshold of their home base. Hardison opened the door and Nate walked quickly towards the couch trying not to jostle Sophie, his eyes fixated on the fresh cut across her face." Set around the start of Season 5. Rated T for mild language and suggestive themes. Nate/Sophie centric. Please review!


Nate held his Sophie in his arms as the team reached the threshold of their home base. Hardison opened the door and Nate walked quickly towards the couch trying not to jostle her, his eyes fixated on the fresh cut across her face. Parker stood just behind them every step. Eliot came in last, his face dark and hard as he played the previous scene over and over in his head, wondering where he could have stopped it.

The con had become a little more complicated than originally anticipated; their cover was blown mere minutes before their exit. Eliot had been relieving guards of their consciousness in the basement when they heard the mark unravel the con. This was shortly followed by the sound of Sophie's body against a wall. By the time Eliot reached her, she was motionless on the floor. The mark was like a bear above her, batting her about with his foot. Eliot's fury was palpable, but his desire to get Sophie someplace safe outweighed his very real desire to kill the bastard. He had scooped her up and rushed outside. He would never be able to forget the look on Nate's face when they reached the van.

Nate reached the couch and gently placed Sophie down. Parker had a small pillow ready for her head. Sophie's eyes fluttered shut. The four standing team members were silent and still for a time. No one was exactly sure what to do – this was Sophie, Sophie took care of _them, _Sophie never got hurt.

Motivated by anger and by guilt Eliot broke the tableaux and knelt beside her.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet and rough as he apologized for what he had failed to do earlier and for what he was about to do now.

Eliot pressed two fingers into Sophie's side, drawing from her an agonizing cry that crumbled her calm facade. Nate smoothed her hair and promised she was okay. Eliot continued, eyes closed, as he tried to block out her voice and count her cracked bones. Her back instinctively arched away from his touch, but that only intensified the pain. She sharply sucked some air in through her teeth.

"Two broken ribs on the left, third one fractured on the right." Eliot told Nate who had all but collapsed onto the floor. "The bone stayed clear of her organs. That's important."

"And her head?" Nate tried his best to remain in control, but all he wanted to do was scoop Sophie back into his arms and hold her tight. Realizing the one way he knew to take care of her would only hurt her further was almost too much.

A few tears leaked out of Sophie's eye as Eliot examined the wound on her forehead. She could feel the bruise already creeping down towards her cheek.

"Could have a concussion. The gash is wide, but not too deep. No stitches." He released the pressure on her face. "Where are you?" He asked, his voice was stern and a little sad.

"Home," Sophie whispered.

"Where is home?"

"Leverage Consulting, Portland." Though feeling frail, she understood the intention.

"And what's your name?"

"Trick question."

The group exhaled.

"She's fine. Let me put a bandage on that thing and then let's get her to bed. We gotta wake her up every few hours to monitor her neuro symptoms, but she's gonna be alright."

"Yeah, she's totally fine." Parker tried to believe it as she forced out the words. She would have to remember to tell Sophie later – this made her feel scared. Really scared and sad. Sophie would be proud.

"Nothin' to do for broken ribs but rest, darlin'." Eliot got up and retrieved a bottle of pills from his bag. "And one to two – no more than two" he repeated to Nate, making absolute sure he was capable of giving Sophie the care she needed, "of these every four hours for the pain."

"Gimme," The demand came from the couch.

With Eliot's help, Nate lifted the now patched up and properly drugged Sophie off the couch and carried her up the stairs. Once they had gotten her in bed, Eliot left them alone. Nate stood for a moment at his Sophie's side. This was a terribly new and frightening sight before him.

"You're alright." He said aloud for his own benefit, and turned to the task at hand. He tenderly unbuttoned Sophie's blouse and slid it off her shoulders. She attempted to help, but Nate begged her to just lie still. Once she complied, Nate, with the tact and care one would use to disarm a bomb, unclasped her bra with no recoil from the elastic. He cringed as he revealed the deep red groove left behind by the underwire. Suddenly remembering to inhale, he fiddled with the zipper on her skirt and guided it down over newly bruised thighs. He tugged at her stockings,

"Ow."

"Sorry." They were too tight. Without pause Nate rose and retrieved scissors from the bathroom. _**Fuck it**__, _he thought, _**nothing else is going to hurt you today.**_ And he carefully cut her stockings to the floor. When, with equal care, he had replaced her clothes with sweatpants and a zip-up of his own, he then replaced the pillow behind her head with himself. He set an alarm for 1:00AM, as instructed, and closed his eyes.

_Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. _

Nate was already awake. He was exhausted, but couldn't bring himself to let go into sleep. What if she needed something? Needed him?

"Soph, Sophie."

"Shhhh"

"Open your eyes."

She did, the left one more swollen than before.

"Follow my finger."

She did.

"I'm fine."

"What's my name?"

"Nathan Fucking Ford." She groaned.

"That's my girl."

And she drifted back into sleep.

_Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep._

_3:46AM_ Nate read off his cell. He rubbed his eyes; he had dozed off briefly that time. He took a moment to relish in the feeling of Sophie safely pressed against his chest.

"Hey beautiful," He carefully nudged her shoulder.

"Nate…" Her voice was fragile, but unmistakably Sophie.

"Open."

She opened her eyes and they repeated the drill. He handed her another Percocet and helped her wash it down.

"What's your name?"

"Gwendolyn"

Nate froze.

"Wait, really?"

"No, idiot."

And they both fell back to sleep.

_Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep. _

Nate groaned and shielded his eyes from the sun that penetrated the bedroom window. He reached once again for his phone. There was a text from Hardison: _Revenge plan in the works. We've been on it all night. Ready to fill you in downstairs. _The text had come half an hour ago, it was only 6:50AM now.

"Soph,"

"Sleep."

"One last time."

They repeated the routine. Nate was satisfied that her head was alright.

"I hurt." She said simply.

"You can have a second pill if you want. The other's in your system for another hour. "

"Please," Her eyes welled up with water.

He handed her another pill and then the glass. He sat still as he waited for the pain pill to kick in. He wasn't ready to leave her, even if he was only going downstairs.

"Do we have any bubblegum?" Was Nate's sign that she was adequately medicated.

"I'll buy you some tomorrow." He smiled.

"You're a nice man."

Nate wanted to chuckle, but there was a very delicate woman draped across him at the moment.

"You go back to sleep now, love. I have to go downstairs."

"I don't want you to." She whispered dreamily. Nate wondered briefly why Percocet didn't have such a charming affect on him.

"I don't want me to either."

"Don't." She clumsily tossed a hand onto his chest, her eyes closed. Inebriated though she was, Nate could sense the real fear behind her plea.

"The only thing I want as much as staying here with you is to destroy the son-of-a-bitch responsible for hurting you." He ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke to her the way he used to speak to Sam. "I will be right downstairs, okay? I can make it back up in 6 seconds if you need me." He wasn't used to fragile Sophie. He hated it.

"But I love you." She slurred the words together.

Nate paused for a moment and looked down at her. He smiled.

"_Our separation so abides and flies," _he began slowly,

"_That thou residing here, goes yet with me;_

_And I hence fleeting, here remain with thee."_

"_Mmmmacbeth_," She hummed.

"No…" Nate teased with a grin, never before having stumped the actress with a Shakespearean quote. He enjoyed that her Percocet addled brain defaulted to her favorite play.

She frowned. "Oh."

"That's alright." He said as he combed his fingers through her thick dark curls. She pushed out her bottom lip and Nate stifled a laugh in favor of stillness for his healing grifter. "Try again." He encouraged. With much effort, she thought for a moment.

"_Antony and Cleopatra_" Her lips curled up into a satisfied smirk.

"Act one, scene three." He concurred.

Reluctantly, he helped her up to wiggle himself free. Her breath hitched in her throat and a whimper escaped her lips. With hands firmly supporting her, he led her safely into the pile of pillows. As she lay back she sloppily stuck her tongue out at the mastermind. He returned the gesture and leaned in to kiss her.

"Will you marry me, Mr. Ford?" Her uninhibited voice caught his lips just barely brushing hers. He stayed exactly where he was and lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his face suddenly serious. Her eyelids floated at half mast opposite his. His thumb traced her cheekbone like a feather; his voice was even lighter still,

"Yes. I will marry you, Sophie."

He kissed her as though his lips were a butterfly and hers a buttercup. The action was at the same time so innocent and so intimate that the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Only once he was satisfied that she had fallen asleep did Nate peel himself off the bed and head downstairs, gently closing the door behind him. He paused on the landing and smiled to himself. Of course he would marry her. Of course she had been the one to ask him. Of course she wouldn't remember a word of that conversation by noon.

His focus tightened as he met the team on the first floor. There was one thing that needed to be addressed prior to the start of their future: avenge Sophie Devereaux's pain.

Up above the plotting, hovering between sleep and wake, Sophie sank into the bed which smelled entirely of Nate. She inhaled deeply, wanting more of his scent which intoxicated her far beyond painkillers. The stabbing pain caused by the breath was dulled only a bit by the drug induced fog. She moaned as she struggled to regain comfort. At long last her body softened and her brow unfurrowed.

"_Oh, my oblivion is a very Antony," _She purred into the pillow, senses enveloped in Nate's cologne,

"_and I am all forgotten."_

She coasted into sleep with the smallest of smiles ingrained in her cheeks.

_**I do not own Leverage. Both quotes are, in fact, from Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, Act 1, Scene 3 and I don't own those either. I hope you enjoyed this little story. I would love it if you would leave a review! Thank you for reading :)**_


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